


Five Feelings

by RhymePhile



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance, Sex, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-31
Updated: 2006-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:39:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhymePhile/pseuds/RhymePhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is my answer to the Five for Six Challenge at <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/oz_rapsheet/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/oz_rapsheet/"><strong>oz_rapsheet</strong></a>, in which <a href="http://chris-baby.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://chris-baby.livejournal.com/"><strong>chris_baby</strong></a> wanted to see "Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Feelings

  
**Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress: _Hope_**

He left one of his shirts underneath the mattress the moment he heard she was coming. Keeping his shirt pressed and neat -- despite the angry prison number stenciled across it --- was one of the few ways he could think of to show how much he missed her.

She used to iron his shirts every morning before he went to work, taking care to keep the collar points sharp. He would lie in bed and listen to her hum, thinking that it made no sense to iron a shirt that was going to get coated in axel grease. He loved that she did it anyway.

He regretted never mentioning that to her.

Anticipation got the better of him and he stopped one of the guards to ask exactly what time visitation was.

"What did I tell you about asking permission?"

Keller turned from the guard, feeling his stomach sink at the sight of Vern walking toward him.

"I'm sorry, sir. I should have asked you to speak, sir."

"That's right, prag," he said, running his fingers through Keller's long hair. "Bitch gotta learn the rules."

"I forgot, sir."

"It seems to me this visitation has you forgetting your manners. We can't have that, can we, Killer?"

"No, sir," Keller answered, rage bubbling inside him at the use of that nickname.

"I don't know why you're so excited anyway."

Keller blinked. "What do you...what do you mean, sir?"

Vern hopped up into the top bunk. "I have it on high authority that you ain't seeing anyone today."

He rose from his bunk, slightly unsteady on his feet, and faced the man above him. "How could you know what?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"Oh," he laughed, "I guess I forgot to give you the letter. Sometimes I get so darn _busy_ in that mailroom."

Vern tossed Keller's opened letter down at him.

He bent to pick it up and stared at the envelope blankly, frowning between the crumpled pages and Vern.

"You don't even have to bother reading it," Vern said with humor in his voice. "She says she can't come to this place anymore and see you in a cage. Boo-hoo-hoo. It's just you and me now, Killer, for a long time." Vern settled back against his pillow and closed his eyes. "Get used to it."

His eyes began to tear as he brought the pages to his nose, hoping he might be able to smell her perfume.

Then he hurled the shirt he had kept pressed for his mother's visit into the toilet.

* * *

 **Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress: _Pride_**

How long does it take to realize that who you are is all you'll ever be?

When you're a kid you have these dreams: football star, doctor, firefighter, superhero. Everything's within your reach when you don't know any better, right? Hell, you can wear a cape and save the girl because no one has told you different.

Then you start gettin' older and the path becomes more twisted. Turns out being a superhero is impossible. You don't have no special powers. You don't have beams that come out of your eyes. All you have are sneakers that are two sizes too small. You have days where toast is all you get for dinner. You learn to go to bed with your mittens on because the heat ain't workin' again.

But you try and hang on to those feelings you keep hidden -- even though you don't got shit and you're livin' in the gutter, some part of you _knows_ that life can't be like this. There are parts of you that are good, worthwhile, and someone has to notice them. You work hard when you can, you don't take shit from nobody, and you stand up for what you believe. It's not much, but it's more than some people have.

Then you reach that scary place, somewhere between being a boy and being a man, and the world changes. Maybe you ain't rich and you don't have that leg up from the start. Sweat can make up for what you weren't born with. You know you have that in you -- that instinct that tells you you're gonna survive, even if you're not all that smart.

But you don't even have anyone who will listen to your crazy dreams, much less your hopes of goin' to college. It's a useless gesture, dreamin' of a future that includes books and education and learning. Like blowin' smoke into the wind, huh? The world starts shaping who you're gonna be, because it's already closed that one door to you. Too stupid, too poor, too unlucky.

You start thinkin' that maybe this is it, this is all we get, even if you don't want to. You still have that spark within you, right, that little voice that tells you to believe in yourself, and love yourself, and just _work harder_. So what if you're struggling? Everyone goes through that. That's a part of growin' up. Besides, like ma always said, God never gives us more than we can handle.

You find yourself praying a lot. It makes you think back to all the Sundays stuck in the pew listening to the priest go on and on, while ma raps your knuckles to make sure you're paying attention.

I probably should have listened to all that preaching. I might have realized a long time ago the path I was going to be on, and just embraced it, y'know?

Because you know what? It's bullshit. It's all bullshit when you're sittin' in a cold apartment and you can't remember when you've eaten. You start to get angry. You want to live a good life, an honest life, but you don't want to suffer to get there. I had enough suffering growing up. I thought I deserved more. I _wanted_ more.

It's the _want_ that does it. Slowly it becomes all you think about...why I don't have this, why I can never get that, and it eats at you. Life ain't what you thought it was gonna be. Beer helps numb the pain, and then when that doesn't work anymore, you turn to other, stronger shit.

Your hopes for the future get forgotten, thrown by the wayside in a shitload of bad decisions. You forget about who you were, and lose your self-worth. You become nothin', like an empty shell desperately seeking somethin' -- or someone -- to fill up that hole in your soul.

When the hurt starts to get unbearable -- that's when you start lookin' for ways to get rid of it. Violence makes the other guy hurt, and that makes you feels better. But after it's over it drives you deeper into the bottle, or the drugs, and that fucks up _everything_. It leads to more violence, more pain, more thinkin' that you're nothin' but shit.

I know the truth, now. There are no superheroes. There's no such thing as tryin' to get by on hard work.

There's only bad choices, empty souls, and Oz.

* * *

 **Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress: _Excitement_**

"I don't know why I have to keep doin' this."

"Because this is helping you, Chris, whether you realize it or not," Sister Pete replied.

"You have everything about me in your file for Chrissakes," he complained, pointing to the manila folder on her desk. "This is just you fuckin' with my head every week."

"I think you need this. I know it's harder on you without Tobias."

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms. "I can handle it."

"I'm sure you can."

"Then why the fuck do I have to keep talking about my childhood? What the hell does that have to do with Toby?"

"I think we need to help you get in touch with who _you_ are, Chris, to help you live a better life."

"My life would be better with Toby."

"But he's not here anymore. It's just you, alone, in that cell every night, and you're going to have to face that."

He scowled at her. "Let's just get this over with so I can go back to my cell, alone, all right?"

"What made you happy as a child?" she asked, adjusting her glasses and readying her pen.

"Christ, Sister, that's what you open with?"

"It's a valid question."

"Shit, I dunno," he snapped, casting his eyes around the room.

"There must be something that you can remember that made you happy. C'mon, Chris, think about it."

He shook his head, his eyes focused on her pen. "Sports, I guess," he answered quietly.

"Okay, sports, good. Why did they make you happy?"

He shrugged. "I dunno, getting out there and kicking a ball or whatever. Made me forget about stuff."

"Can you remember a specific time? What's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

He began to speak, but drew back and released a sigh. "I don't want to talk about that."

"Why not?"

He simply shrugged again.

"Chris, talking about it will help you realize its affect on you. Powerful emotions can be a step toward healing."

"Healing what?" he scoffed. "My fucked-up childhood? Loneliness? Missing Toby?"

"Healing who you are. Aren't you tired of living in a constant state of pain?" she asked gently.

"I'm used to it."

"You don't have to be. Now c'mon, what were you going to say?"

"The faster I talk the faster we're done, right?" he asked.

"That's usually just the start of things, but yeah."

"Fine," he stated angrily, burrowing even deeper into the plastic chair. "The first thing I thought of was being excited."

"Excited? About what?"

"Of finally being chosen first when we were picking teams."

"Okay, that's good," she said, listening intently. "Why were you excited?"

"Because I was never chosen first. _Never_. I was the kid everyone hated. The weird one. The kid not smart enough to be considered a geek, not tough enough to avoid being bullied, and not good enough on the playground to be a jock. I was somewhere in the middle, I guess. A nobody."

"I'm sure that's not..."

"It is true," he bit back. "That was my life."

"So you were excited to be chosen for the team."

"Yeah," he answered, not looking at her. "I thought I had finally proven myself somehow, y'know? Given them a reason to like me. I used to...I tried so hard to get them to like me."

"Did it feel good to finally get to play with the rest your schoolmates?"

He looked up at her, a mixture of pain and dark humor on his face. "Play with them?"

"Yes, Chris. How did it feel?"

"It felt like shit, Sister."

"What do you mean?"

"Because they didn't choose me to play. They chose me first so that I would be the one to hold their jackets."

"Chris..."

"That's the last fucking time I was excited about _anything_." His face was hot with embarrassment as he got up from the chair and stalked over to the door.

"Chris, let's just talk about..."

"Here's to healing, Sister," he growled, and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

 **Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress: _Loneliness (in haiku form)_**

Chess; wrestling; long talks  
Happiness unexpected  
Seeking his caress

A simple plan, fucked  
I wasn't supposed to care  
I fell willingly

Holding onto him  
His kiss tastes of forgiveness  
He's mine forever

Lips, tongue, soft touches  
He makes my life bearable  
I am me with him

No easy answers  
To hurt is to be alive  
Understand my pain

Loving you is hard  
Challenges never scared me  
I thrive on your smile

Death without killing  
Years inside; nobody cares  
He would cry for me

Darkness surrounds me  
I see the sky in his eyes  
He smells like freedom

* * *

 **Five Feelings Keller Learned to Suppress: _Vulnerability (100-word drabble)_**

Stomachs, chests, and cocks touching, Toby slid his hips lower. The man underneath moaned, spreading his legs.

"Chris, I want you to look at me."

He closed his eyes. "I can't."

"I want you to know how beautiful you are to me..." He rubbed himself against Chris's firm thigh. "I need you to see it in my eyes."

"I do see it. I love you," he gasped.

"I know."

"But how do I know I can trust you?" he whispered.

Toby's fingers caressed his lips. "I touch your soul when I'm inside you."

Chris opened his eyes and got lost.


End file.
